In the Shallows
by IWLTxo
Summary: Sirius is a university drop-out living in the house of his dead family; Remus is a passionate writer stuck in the body of a rookie postman. When they meet, it starts off as pure, innocent friendship. But then they fall in love, in the most unconventional way ever, perhaps.


**A/N: **I'm supposed to be revising, but look what listening to _In the Shallows, by Daughter _over and over again can do to me: I can produce a 5,000 word fanfiction in the space of a few hours. One that I've had the most fun writing.

Please review and favourite!

**Warnings: **mentions of slashy sex, slight smut and lots of swearing. Enjoy!

* * *

He's posted letters for about a year now, and Remus John Lupin has to admit one thing; it's not fun. Not at all. He despises it. There are only two things he likes about it; the walking. Remus loves walking, he likes the fresh air rushing over him, the sweet smell (most of the time) of nature and flowers, the sounds of cars, animals, sometimes even silence, when he's posting really early for example.

It's nice.

He also likes catching just a small glance of the handsome guy, always sitting outside his door, smoking, and flicking through a magazine or on his phone. It's only him; living in a big house with no one to keep him company.

_I could keep him company..._

No, that's a lie, there are others there occasionally. Sometimes there are girls and guys there, and some appear to be his friends whereas others just appear to be friends of certain anatomy parts the handsome man has.

Remus has never delivered whilst the guy is outside though. He's tried, but he always _only just_ misses him. And when he looks, there he is, sat there smoking. Once, Remus thought he was going to make it. He hurried as fast as he could, and almost did, but just as he got to the front of the large home, the dark haired man was tossing his fag and stepping into the house.

It's weird, Remus thinks, that he has an enormous home to himself but chooses to smoke outside, be it rain or blistering sunshine, instead of in his kitchen or something. Maybe he respects his house. Remus sure does. It's a gorgeous home. The best and the largest out of all the others nearby. The houses are all really spaced apart; homes of rich, petulant and ignorant gits.

But the dark haired _Mr Sirius Orion Black of Number 12, Grimmauld Place_ definitely isn't petulant or ignorant. He's something better, something sweeter.

Something Remus sure doesn't mind watching out of the corner of his eye.

_xo_

It's too hot, Sirius thinks angrily. He can't even breathe properly. But that might be down to the cigarettes actually; not the heat. He likes where he lives. Always has. His parents are dead (thank god) and they left the house to him and all the money. The house he hadn't been in before they died for two years. He ran away when he was younger, you see. But he has Grimmauld Place now, because his parents and his brother are dead.

Sirius knows that if he'd been there that night, or had the power to save anyone, it would have been Regulus. Because he loves Regulus, even after all he'd done to bring Sirius down. It wasn't his fault though. It was Walburga and Orion's fault.

Sirius even has a tattoo on the small of his back reading _I forgive you Reg_. When the hospital called him to tell him his parents were in the morgue and his brother in intensive care, he jumped on his motorbike and broke pretty much all the speeding laws to get there in time.

Because Reg was fighting a losing battle, and Sirius didn't want the last thing his brother saw to be the white hospital walls. He arrived in time, Regulus's state was deteriorating and he was dying. Sirius's baby brother, dying before him...

When Regulus died, he was apologising profusely. _"__I'm so-sorry,"_ Regulus said, _"f-f-forgive m-m..."_ Tears had been leaking out of the dying boy's eyes, as his elder brother kissed him and held him.

_"It's alright Reg, I forgive you,"_ Sirius repeated over and over.

He shakes his head and wipes the tears forming in his eyes before they can fall. He refuses to cry. It's been a year. A year, and yet a day doesn't go by where Sirius doesn't regret not helping to mend his relationship with his brother; where he doesn't regret everything.

He still hasn't visited his brother's grave, and as much as he wants too, he doesn't think he'll be able too. It hurts too much.

Sirius sits on the step. It's a particularly bright morning, and it's blisteringly hot. The sun is bearing down on his bare torso and baking it; trying to turn his naturally pale skin a little more golden.

The skies are cloudless and light blue; birds are singing and the breeze is rustling the leaves on the trees. It's beautiful.

Sirius gets out his deck of B&H Silver and lights a fag, inhaling deeply and using the smoke to suck away all his anger, heartache and melancholy; replacing it with a numbness. A cold, crispy character instead. James, the best friend, still loves Sirius to bits; he did let Sirius live with him for two and a half years. But ever since Regulus's death … he's been different. Colder and curter. He doesn't party as much anymore, and when he does, alcohol and cocaine simply _have_ to be involved.

He doesn't want to live in his own body anymore, Sirius doesn't. It's like he hates himself for what happened so much he's trying to kill himself as slowly as possible. Why else has he started smoking, and why else would be do drugs now more than ever? He's dropped out of university; he went London School of Economics, you see, doing Mathematics. But now, he lives off the inheritance left to him and doesn't even want to settle down and build a life for himself.

Instead, he just fucks everything in a skirt or trousers, he's not fussy.

James has said to Sirius from the beginning, the only way to heal himself is to meet someone. A person who can fill the gaping hole in his heart, show him how to live again. But Sirius has yet to meet that "someone".

He takes another drag of his fag and looks down at his feet. There are flushed with perspiration, and a tiny bit sweaty. He reminds himself to go and have a cool shower to chill down. It's way too hot. Who would have known? England, being hot for once!

It's like Jesus coming down from above, singing "Mamma Mia!" or something. Very unlikely.

But Sirius likes the heat, just as he savours the cold. But only when it's really hot or really cold, not anything mild or in-between. He likes it because it distracts him; he's so focused on not freezing his arse off or passing out from heat stroke.

The sound of feet on gravel spikes Sirius's attention, and he sees, emerging from behind his three prized motorbikes parked on the porch, the postman. His tanned skin is slicked with sweat and flushed; his hair is matted with perspiration and he's panting lightly.

He's obviously very hot, especially in his thick uniform.

"Are you okay?" asks Sirius worriedly. Then the bright angel looks up and he thinks he might as well die. Die and go to heaven.

Because the post man is beautiful up close. More than beautiful, he's heavenly. Celestial. Gorgeous. Sirius gulps, dampens his lips with his tongue, and swallows thickly again.

Sirius has seen him from the distance sometimes, but isn't the type to pay too much attention to someone passing by. He suddenly regrets it.

This postman has a smattering of golden freckles on the bridge of his nose; one brown one attached to his lip; like a crumb of chocolate. Sirius suddenly wishes it is chocolate, just so he can lick it off. The postman's eyes are a pale golden brown, and alight with fire and vibrancy. His eyes aren't the only vibrant thing about him. His hair seems to have at least five different shades; yellow, light and dark brown, a little bit of red and bronze even. It's amazing.

He is amazing.

"Y-yes," the shy postman manages to stutter out. "It's just so hot."

Sirius gulps, "Tell me about it. And the AC isn't working in my house again for the millionth time."

Remus smiles softly and riffles through the bundle of letters, retrieving three for Sirius and handing it to him.

"Would you like to come in for a glass of water?" Sirius says. The words are out before he even processes them, and then he kicks himself. It probably sounds like he's wants one thing and one thing only.

The postman nods nervously and says in a quiet voice, "Yes please."

"Alright," Sirius says, tossing his unfinished cigarette and standing up, dusting the shorts he's wearing. He opens the door for the enigmatic and simply divine postman, before cringing and thinking why oh why would you do such a thing?

_You're treating him like a little pansy. For all you know, he could be married or have a kid or just be totally straight. And it's not fair if you imagine fucking him right now upstairs when he's probably already in a relationship. He's too good-looking not to be._

Sirius gets out a glass of water, puts it under the ice machine and shoots some cubes into it just to ensure it's chilly enough, and then goes over to the fridge and pours half a bottle of water into the glass. With shaky hands, he gives it to the postman, who sits it enthusiastically.

"You probably know my name, what with you being a postman and all. So what's yours?" Sirius says.

The handsome man looks up and sends Sirius a wink. "My name is Remus Lupin, if you must know Mr Black."

"None of that Mr Black nonsense, Remus. I'm just Sirius. Mr Black was my father."

"Was?" says Remus observantly, ignoring the chills going up his spine at the way the object of his dreams just said his name; so sexily, so sweetly, rolling the 'R' ever so slightly, drawing out the 'S'.

Sirius has a very posh accent, the blond one notices. But it's nice. Husky, posh and very nice.

"My father died, and my mother and brother. There was a fire in this restaurant they went to. Eleven others died and twenty three were badly injured." His voice is very quiet when he says this, and he stares resolutely at the glass pressed to Remus's lips.

"Oh." The other replies awkwardly. He doesn't know how to respond without sounding clichéd or cheesy. So instead, he just says what most people do, "That's sad."

Or rather, he goes and says the total opposite of what he wanted to say and instead replies with just about the _dumbest_ thing anyone could reply with. _That's sad? That's sad?! Of course it's fucking sad! His family died!_

Surprisingly, Sirius smiles. "It is, isn't it? But I don't care about my parents. They've had it a long time coming. It's my brother that..." he doesn't finish, instead distracting himself with standing up and getting the half-bottle of water from the fridge. He pours Remus the rest and gets out some biscuits.

"So," says Remus, "how old are you?"

_Dammit, dammit. I sound like a pervert. Thank you god for helping me bollocks this up!_

Sirius smiles at him. "Twenty. What about you?"

Remus grins shyly. "Twenty."

It's like they're a match made in heaven, thinks Sirius, the same age … both enthusiastic about drinking water, because no one drinks water the way Remus does save him, and they have a similar sort of dry sense of humour.

"You look younger," replies Sirius, "I'd say about eighteen."

"Well, I'm not. I promise," the other answers back. He looks at his watch, then jolts a little. "Oh, I've got to go. I still have two more streets to deliver letters to."

Sirius stands up and so does Remus, flicking his golden hair back. He nods. "Okay Remus." He loves the way the blond hair man's name sounds on his tongue. So delectable and sexy.

"Thank you for the water."

"It's alright. It was nice meeting you."

Remus blushes and fans himself. The weather really is too hot. "Nice meeting you too." Then without another word, he sees himself out.

Sirius closes the door and leans against it, hyperventilating just a little bit. "Oh god," he says softly, biting his lip and resisting a groan. "Why does everything bad have to happen to me?"

A few metres away, and behind the cover of green bushes, Remus exhales shakily and closes his eyes, picturing Sirius Black's gorgeous face and large stunning silver eyes. "Fuck," he whispers, "why does everything bad have to happen to me?"

_xo_

The next day, if possible, it's hotter. Sirius is smoking his second cigarette as slowly as he can, waiting for Remus to just hurry up and come. Then, the sounds of shoes meeting gravel fill Sirius's ears and he looks up just a little too eagerly. It's Remus, shyly smiling and sporting a cap to conceal his forehead from the ravenous sun overhead.

He blushes pink (but that may just be the exertion) when his golden eyes meet orbs of silver. "Hi," he says.

"Hey." Sirius replies.

"Here are your letters," Remus says, getting out the wad and handing it to Sirius after checking they're all his.

Sirius takes them and says quietly, "Thanks Remus."

They stand before each other, not unawkwardly, and smile a little too enthusiastically at one another before Sirius finally says, "Want some water?"

The pattern continues for a month before Sirius invites Remus over after he finishes his job for some pizza and a movie. They watch The Dark Knight, because it's legendary and such a beautiful, clever, intelligent film. They have popcorn and Remus is shocked to discover that Sirius seems to have at least half of Tesco's hiding in his enormous Willy Wonka sized kitchen.

There's just about everything, even coconut milk, which Remus adores and didn't think anyone would drink aside from him and non-dairy eaters.

They sit next to each other at an acceptable distance; about a foot and a half between them, and a pillow. But somewhere during the several hours they've spent watching the film, they end up flush against each other, watching in anticipation.

Remus bites his lip and continues to watch the film, even though he's distracted by the scorching waves of heat cascading off of Sirius and colliding with the side of his body. When he looks up, through the corner of his eye, he can see every move Sirius makes; when he licks his lip, when his Adam's apple bobbles with each swallow...

It's like every moment with Sirius awakens something inside Remus, an instinct he has long since buried. Only, it isn't buried anymore. He's writing a lot now. Poetry and short stories that aren't as good as his old stuff, before the car accident, but he's getting somewhere. Who else gets to say they've had a metal rod from a car pierce their shoulder? He does, thanks to the drunk driver who collided with him when he turned eighteen.

There's a poem Remus has written about Sirius, about all the stuff he'd like to do to him. How he wants to frame Sirius, keep him somewhere only he can enjoy the sight of him. How he wishes more than anything to run his fingers through the rich man's soft, silky black hair. How he wants so desperately to feel Sirius's lips with his fingers, with his skin, his _own _lips...

Remus doesn't notice Sirius watching him with just as much longing and if possible, even more desperation and adoration.

"Heath Ledger's kind of sexy, wouldn't you say?" Sirius murmurs in a low voice. "But it's always been Christian Bale for me. There's just something about his voice that turns me on..."

Remus's mouth falls slack open and he hesitantly turns to survey Sirius, looking for any sign of joking. But the mischievous and twinkling eyes don't betray any humour.

"Y-you're..."

"Yeah. Well, no actually. Well, sort of. I'm bisexual, you see. I like tits and dicks. Bit confusing sometimes, but there you have it."

Remus almost chokes on his tongue and starts coughing, reaching over to snatch a bottle of cock … no, _coke, not cock,_ from the glass (and probably worth ten thousand pounds) coffee table. He sips it and clears his throat.

"Why didn't I know this?"

"It never came up. But Christian Bale is making me feel particularly adventurous tonight, wouldn't you agree?" Sirius replies huskily, clearing his throat too and winking at Remus.

It's a series of hot, wet dreams from them on, Remus recalls. They all end with him waking up, Sirius's name on his lips and dampness surrounding him.

_xo_

It's the end of August now, and Remus is glad to hear he has a day off. Just one day. But there isn't much post and his boss much be feeling particularly generous, because this is the first time she's ever even suggested him having an morning off just to relax.

He thanks her profusely and then hurries to his little flat that he shares with a friend called Peter, has some food and about fifty ice-lollies, before taking his notepad and a few pens. He's got £15 in his pocket and feels like a nice lie in the park; where he can feel the wind stirring around him, breathe in the fumes and maybe today, with all the gentleness and enlightenment he feels, he'll write something good.

It only takes twenty minutes to get to the best park in South London, Remus thinks. He sits under the shade of a lone, tall tree, sets out the blanket he has also brought along, and closes his eyes, letting the nature spur him on.

_Crisp, golden serenity. Like falling in love -_  
_for the first time, for the last time._  
_Monsoons and tempestuous weather can't drown what I feel for you._  
_But if I do drown, will you drown with me too?_  
_Gorgeous black hair, matted to your head, like the death that has purged your soul.  
__Stars cannot shine brighter than your eyes, nor your ruby lips, nor your snowy pale skin.  
__Lying on my back, I gaze at you. Watching stars collide  
__as your eyes meet mine._

Remus jerks when he feels his mobile vibrating. He lifts it and sees the object of his dreams, his heart, his mind, dancing across the screen.

"Hello?" asks Remus.

"Rem," pants Sirius. "I just came from a jog. Man, you should not smoke and then jog just after. My chest feels like it's on fire."

"I've told you to quit before. You just don't listen." He smiles and can almost imagine Sirius pouting on the other line.

"I've cut down. Use to smoke about twelve a day, now it's only three or four. You should feel proud."

Remus laughs and lies back, closing his eyes and shutting the pale blue skies out. He's never been as happy as he feels right now; it would be too easy to say it, to tell Sirius those three little words-

"Why are you calling anyway?"

He can hear a barking laugh on the other end. Sirius responds with, "Come over mine. I'm bored."

"So you only call me when you're bored. Like I'm some sort of lapdog that's going to run and entertain you even if it's an enormous inconvenience to me."

There's soft laughter on the other line and Remus feels his heart squeeze. He licks his lips and hums cheerfully under his breath.

"Come over," pleads Sirius, and Remus knows he'll come over. All the other man has to do is ask, and he'll be there.

"Oh, alright. But don't expect me to be quick or anything."

A laugh fills the line, before the handsome dark haired man says, "See you soon. Emphasis on the word _soon_."

He's right, Remus is there soon; within twenty minutes actually. And no, he didn't speed-walk. Well, only just a little bit. He knocks on the door and it opens before he even gets to take a step back.

"Come in," says Sirius, though he personally feels like he shouldn't and doesn't need to say it anymore. He'd give anything to have Remus permanently over.

Sirius has dinner cooking and flourishes his hands, saying, "Look what I can make." It looks delicious. It's lasagne, and Remus does not believe for shit that Sirius made it. He voices this opinion. "Oh alright," the other says impatiently. "It's a ready-made meal from Waitrose, but look, it seems as though I made it. What more can you ask for, eh?"

Each day that Remus spends with Sirius, which is almost every day in actual fact, makes him fall in love that much harder and stronger. Because he's come to realise that he's in love. Not the petty crush he had before he actually knew Sirius, but a strong, unadulterated emotion he feels now; one that ripples, like waves, through his entire body.

Remus trembles just thinking about Sirius sometimes. He's just so beautiful.

"Thanks for making dinner, I'm famished. It was boiling outside. But I got the day off today, so I'm quite happy."

"I know," says Sirius, "I stalk your Facebook page."

They laugh at this together. "What were you doing before I called you then, Remus?"

He still can't get over the way Sirius says his name; so sensually, so huskily it drives him fucking mad!

"Wanking?" suggests Sirius when his friend doesn't answer.

"Don't be so crude. I was actually in the park."

"Perving on some children, eh?"

Remus grins widely even though it's not very funny, and more of a sensitive topic than anything. "Well, no. I was actually writing."

"Writing what?" Sirius sounds half distracted, but does seem genuinely interested.

"Stuff."

If the other is curious, he doesn't show it, and Remus appreciates that. Finally, after much arguing and good-natured debating, they decide that the lasagne is cooked and ready to eat. If there's one thing Remus has to admit, it's that the food is tasty. The lamb and the cheese of the lasagne are to die for, and the roasted carrots and potatoes that Sirius actually did make, are also divine.

It feels like a date and for a moment, Sirius pretends it is one. He closes his eyes in longing but frowns sadly when he realises that he doesn't know if Remus is gay, let alone if Remus is even interested in him.

He so desperately wants Remus to be interested in him.

Sirius isn't comfortable revealing it, but he's been so much better since the golden haired postman came into his life. He doesn't cry as much anymore about Regulus but still hasn't brought himself to visit his dead brother. He also is a lot more like the old Sirius, as James often comments nowadays. He doesn't do drugs as much, and he's stopped getting completely drunk _every_ weekend.

He stays home a lot more. He hasn't had sex in three weeks (a record for him, because a sex addict can only stand so much abstinence) and most importantly, he smiles. He smiles a lot. Granted, it's usually only when Remus is there, but still.

His eyes meet Remus's over the lasagne they're eating, and he gestures to the wine bottle, their fingers brushing when Remus hands it over.

Surprisingly, both boys are rather subdued compared to usual. It's like something is about to happen, and they don't know what.

"I'm gay you know," Remus manages to spit out, almost randomly. Sirius's cutlery clatter to the floor, flinging the lasagne attached to it across the dining hall and onto the wall. He doesn't even bend down to pick it up, instead raising a shaky eyebrow.

"R-really?" Sirius breathes.

"Have been since I was oh, I don't know, seventeen."

They don't wait a moment, one minute they're seated opposite each other, the next they're kissing furiously, making up for at least two months worth of lust and attraction and greed. They claw at each other, kiss, groan into one another's mouths and tear at each other's hair.

It's love. The way they touch each other, breathe one another's names, moan, cry out; it's all love.

_xo_

Sirius kisses his lover's cheek and falls beside him, panting and wiping the sweat off his brow. His fingertips skim down the tanned boy's spine and with a delighted cry, he watches as Remus turns over, leans up and kisses him.

"We should have done this months ago," breathes Sirius, rubbing his nose against Remus's and kissing him softly.

"I know. I'm glad we did it though."

"Me too," whispers Sirius in answer. He watches as Remus falls asleep under his ministrations; the gentle pitter patter of his fingertips along the other's ribs and collarbone and through his golden hair.

The silver eyed man looks up, yawning. It's not very late right now, and the sun had set whilst they made love; the sky was now a bluish orange, like fire and smoke all in one.

Sirius walks out onto the balcony for a cigarette, needing to calm himself down. How … how does he tell Remus he loves him? He finishes it, contemplates another fag but decides one is enough for now. If Remus doesn't want him to ever smoke again, he won't. He needs to get used to saying no to the evil little things.

He goes back into the bedroom, gets gum off his counter and pops it into his mouth. Hopefully Remus won't be able to smell his fag-ash breath, or taste it even.

Sirius decides to tidy up before he goes to sleep beside his lover. As he puts Remus's satchel on top of his neatly folded clothes, a notepad falls out. Sirius really doesn't mean to read it. Or thumb through it. Or invade Remus's privacy in any way, but as he's closing the notepad, a line steals his attention. And that's when he reads all the beautiful poetry about him.

Until he feels like he's just discovered who he actually is, all over again.

_xo_

Remus wakes up to the lovely aroma of eggs drifting towards him. He stretches; the clicks of his muscles chiming through the air. He looks to his left, but Sirius isn't there.

_Well duh, he's making the eggs for you, idiot!_

Remus never would have believed Sirius would be like this; loving, caring and so passionate. He's a rich public schoolboy, for god's sake. He isn't supposed to be tender and affectionate. But just as Remus faces discrimination, Sirius does too.

And it's wrong.

He finds his boxers and his t-shirt neatly folded on the dresser and picks them up, donning the clothing. He hurries down the enormous grand staircase and walks to the kitchen, where the magnificent smell intensifies. He groans and licks his lips. There are pancakes too, and a bowl of freshly cut fruit.

It's perfect. A little cliché but eh, Remus is a writer; life is supposed to be a little cliché for writers.

He looks up and meets the stunning silver eyes of Sirius Black, totally naked save the apron he's wearing.

"Good morning." He says huskily.

"Hey," Remus replies. "This smells amazing."

"Looks can be deceiving," Sirius says, "it can look like something but be something totally different, something absolutely magnificent-"

"Sirius, are you alright?" asks the golden haired man, tilting his head. "You've got your determined expression on your face."

"Ha," laughs Sirius, a little forced, "well, I've just been focusing on blowing your brains out with my feast of a breakfast."

"You blew my brains out yesterday already. Twice in fact, if you _know what I mean_."

Sirius starts laughing and Remus joins in. "Who knew such an innocent postman could be so dirty?"

"Looks can be deceiving, right?" replies Remus.

He sits opposite his boyfriend (Sirius is his boyfriend, right?) and watches him shovel pancakes and egg onto enormous sized plates. He pours them some orange juice and sets the food out.

"I'll never have to cook a day in my life if we stay together."

"I hope we stay together," Sirius whispers to him, looking up. "Remus I think … I think I love you."

It's like time has slowed down, granting them endless moments together. A second seems to stretch to a million, as Remus exhales shakily and looks up with watery eyes. He feels a little feminine and all, but he doesn't care. Because that _"dark haired man at number twelve"_ loves him.

It's turned into so much more. From a crush behind the side lines to something so real and alive, Remus thinks this may well be the happiest he's ever been in his life.

He gets up and walks around the kitchen table until he's standing between Sirius's legs, who is seated. He bends down and meets Sirius's lips with his own hungry searching pink ones. They kiss for a long time, in which Remus throws every inch of love and adoration into the gentle press of their lips.

He pulls away, and frowns. "Have you just had a fag?"

_xo_

It's been a year and a bit now, since Reg died: and exactly two weeks after Sirius told Remus he loves him. Right now, they're in a graveyard, where dead spirits haunt the night and humans visit in the day. Sirius can feel spirits with him, as weird as that sounds. He breathes in deeply and closes his eyes, letting the tears fall down his face.

"I miss you so much." He breathes, looking down at the grave below him. _Regulus Arcturus Black. _It's got flowers on it, vibrant red roses, contrasting to the mass of grey surrounding it.

Remus is a few metres behind, allowing Sirius just a few minutes with his brother.

"I'm so sorry for all I've done. For not coming to visit you. For not being here for you … I'm s-so sorry," and he starts crying. Sirius doesn't like crying. He feels weak. But strangely enough, when he's crying for Regulus, he doesn't feel any shame, just sorrow and melancholy.

"I've got a boyfriend now, one who I love more than anything. I have yet to introduce him to James's parents, but I'm sure they'll love him. I sure do."

There's a soft silence, then, "I forgive you, you know. But only if you forgive me."

After ten minutes, Remus walks over and helps his boyfriend to his feet. He wraps his arms around Sirius and kisses him. "It's alright," he whispers, "I'm here for you. Everyone is here for you."

Their lips meet in a soft battle, before Sirius breaks it with a whispered, "I'd drown for you any day."

* * *

Please review. :)


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